Broken Vessel
by Caleigho Meer
Summary: Balthazar's most harrowing moments.
1. Chapter 1

If Merlin had lived to see the hell wrought from his own, he would have wept. Or vomited. Perhaps a toxic mix of both.

Balthazar's musings were interupted by another of Horvath's volleys. It was much like Horvath himself, far too pretensious and flashy for Balthazar's tastes.

Disgusted, he shook his head, and tensed, waiting, projecting an almost bored calm with the whole situation.

Inwardly, Balthazar trembled. He knew well the madness of challenging Horvath, and accepted the odds with a dull resignation and the vague hope that he could buy himself and the world a bit more time.

It was as futile as it was noble, the end of a long, long hopeless quest that was now reaching its savage conclusion. Balthazar glanced, troubled for the writhing city around him, as the people continued their erratic, oblivious paths.

They deserved a more merciful ending than this. And, perhaps he, as well.

Time seemed like a well-worn noose, fraying and giving way a bit more with each of Horvath's attacks. He had hoped to God he had spared David the full knowledge of the finality. He felt the sad, bitter smile quirk at his lips. David had been horrified when he realized that Balthazar truly intended to take out Horvath, or die trying. And he could only stand there in dismayed bewilderment as Balthazar bid him that far too quick farewell, and disappeared too quickly for even a protest.

David certainly deserved more than being left with a bunch of complications, unresolved issues, angst and unending doubts. If there had just been more time...Balthazar shrugged off the useless fault, eyes narrowing as he warily watched Horvath.

The man had the air of a pouncing tiger. Balthazar drew a shaking breath. The last flare of magic had grazed him and burned before he had a chance to squelch it. Horvath seemed to find the whole situation rather festive, as he kept flinging the bright flares higher like confetti. Balthazar knew they were only intended to weaken his defenses by forcing him to deflect them with magic of his own.

It was slow, calculated, and sadly working.

His own ending, he had contemplated, of course. He just hoped that this wasn't it. He knew very well the difference of human flesh and its decay. He lived the the burden of artificially granted mortality, propped up by an aging spell, and rapidly wanning as Merlin's last grace so slowly crumbled.

Balthazar had been quietly decaying for a while now.

He was already weakened from the constant barrage of unseen blows that Horvath gleefully shot at random. Balthazar neither admitted, nor acknowledged how many of them he had deflected on behalf of both helpless civilian and a pathetically uncertain apprentice.

At first, they had only been glancing flickers, easily fended off, and much like an annoying swarm of mosquitos. Balthazar thought them both pathetic, and petty, a waste of magic.

Disgraceful, really, to treat the Art as if it were a plaything to torment others. And how very kind of Horvath to treat Balthazar to both a pretty fireworks display and a convient way of always knowing his location.

And then, Balthazar came to the sickening realization of Horvath's true attack, too late.

A slow, continual wounding that could bring down any enemy, given enough time.

Torture carefully parcelled out to allow no time for healing or recovery.

Balthazar snarled in irritation. How in the hell did he miss this?

Later. He would ponder it later, if he had that chance.

He stood at the edge of the growing flame, disgusted, horrified.  
The Merlin's Circle, at one time, had been a haven. In all the eons he had walked this world, it was still the one constant that he considered home.

Until now.  
Horvath had perverted it to a ring of bloodied fire, that rose and fell like the teeth of a ravaging animal.

Balthazar felt the nausea curl in his gut, sickened, and now, very afraid.

If Horvath could violate the thing that they all held so sacred, what was there left, untainted from all of this?

Those were his thoughts, when Horvath finally dropped any pretense and decided to kill in earnest.

A ripple through the air was the only warning before Horvath's spell collided againt Balthazar's shields. They shattered like mirrors being hit with a cannonball.

Balthazar recoiled from both the shock of Horvath's power, and the pain that reverberated through him.  
Balthazar had been too stunned to counter the next attack at all.

Normally, it would have been humilating to be toppled by a flying metal newspaper rack. Maybe Horvath had added that petty cruelty for the embarrassment.

Later, Balthazar would jokingly describe the experience akin to being hit with a magically infused torpedo, with a twisted smirk. All he remembered was the odd scrape of metal, as his instincts screamed warning.

Air moving over his spine before he could pivot and ward off the attack. The rack, as it flickered into the light out of the corner of his eye, and flew towards him.

Thoughts fragmenting as instinct and magic slid upward, and surged through him.

In all other situations besides this, Balthazar would have sent the thing careening through the air, away.

Maybe he would have disolved the metal into a twisted form and label it modern art. Maybe he would have insulted Horvath's tastes by making it a flock of butterflies.

He would never know.

It was odd, savage, underhanded. Balthazar was not amused to realize how alike Horvath's attack reflected Horvath himself.

He heard the odd thud as the thing slammed into his back. The numb, bewilderment, the snap that sounded like a firecracker.

His body recoiled as metal collided with bone, and fractured both.  
And then, he crumbled.  
The concrete was brittle beneath his sprawl as he instinctively broke his fall with an elbow.

Human injury, or Horvath's cruelty.

The cause of the sudden paralysis mattered little when he hauled himself upward on shaking arms.

He started trembling anew when he realized his legs were slack as water behind him.

It would have been far more terrifying were it not so mercifully numb.

He couldn't move his legs.

Balthazar heard Horvath chuckle and utter another dark enchantment.

Numb. Everything was numb, as if some tether of body to sensation had been severed. Horvath certainly wouldn't be content to limit himself to only inflicting necessary force when he could torture.

Balthazar shuddered when the whiplash tore through his gut again. Grit his teeth, ignored it.

Balthazar could not stop the wince from contorting his face.

Horvath's chuckle sounded like breaking glass at his agony.

Grunting, Balthazar hauled himself upright a few inches, propped his entire weight on his shaking arm. The rest of his body was twisted and useless even as he tried to dig his boots into the wet pavement for some purchase.

He bit back the cry , as he groped forward the few inches he could lurch on his hands. Crawling like a worm, waiting for Horbath to simply raise a heel and grind him out of existance.

This would be a humiliating way to die.

He tensed when he felt Horvath's magic swath over him, violatingly close. It came to rest over his body, rolling over his broken back like skin.

Oh, God, the pain! It grew claws, teeth, bit down on his bones.

He choked, shut his eyes, tried to find some ground in his chaotic thoughts. He scraped what remained of his magic, visualized its warm glow, sent it lacing through his broken spine. The warmth trickled like water over his bones, but only reduced the raw agony to a level that he could breathe again.

The last of his magic disolved with the finality of a last breath.

Horvath relished Balthazar's flinch at the sudden words.

"The circle is nearly complete."

Horvath would have preferred fearful cowering to Balthazar's calm, irritated glare.

Balthazar seemed to find the announcement insultingly unnecessary.

Horvath merely gave him a languid smirk, completely unbothered at the torture he had just meted out.

"It must be awful, Balthazar."

Balthazar quirked an eyebrow, stared up at him, quizzically.

"Awful doesn't begin to cover it, Horvath."

Horvath frowned at that, clearly unamused. Balthazar managed a small smirk in answer at buying himself a bit more time.

Horvath did not trouble himself to continue the conversation. He was perfectly content to watch Balthazar's hopeless struggle with undisguised glee.

Balthazar's head was bowed,as he muttered another fractured attempt at a healing spell. Horvath boredly allowed it to light over Balthzar's broken back, before raising a fist and squelching its existance like a crushed butterfly.

He relished the sudden, soft groan.

"All these years, fighting to stop this one moment."

Ahh, the words had wounded what his magic could not. Balthazar stiffened, raised his eyes, and only stared as Horvath smiled.

So this was how Horvath summerized Balthazar's ending. It was both far too cheap, and far too sickening to contemplate.

The words felt like shards, which Balthazar ignored. He clawed forward, the few pathetic inches only won by his spasmed movement. It was a paltry trade, an unfair one that cost him precious energy.

"And then coming..up short."

It was purred triumph, as Horvath paused to savor Balthazar's humiliating attempt to rise, to crawl away, anything but lay there and die like this...

Balthazar raised his eyes to see Horvath standing over him, a condemning god finally allowed to carry out the long awaited sentence. The fire from Merlin's circle shot skyward, unfurled like dragon's wings, and lit the whole sky in flame. Weaving, the fire coiled into a spiral, then split and arched each line tracing Morgana's symbol.

Balthazar trembled at the hellish sight.

To be continued?


	2. Fear

Apparently Horvath didn't consider Balthazar to be worthy of a mercifully swift ending. Aside from the occasional glance of scorn, Horvath only contented himself with allowing Balthazar's agony to continue. Indeed, besides the mournful eyes, the pathetic lurching of a few inches, and the barely concealed groans, Balthazar had been stripped of any means to interfere.

The dark words of Morgana's chant were brittle as they rose and fell around her. As she spiraled around the vortex and summoned the fire, Horvath boredly surveyed the flames that were spiraling to the edges of the earth. The pattern was erratic at first, but weaving itself into the mutilated version of Merlin's circle. The power that radiated felt like a current as he warily stepped back to allow Morgana room. She continued the wild dance, her feral sneer and nearly blinded eyes rolled heavenward in trance, as the light spilled from her fingers.

Horvath allowed himself a smirk when he saw Balthazar recoil from its presence. He knew Merlinians were always repulsed by what they considered to be the stench of evil. It would be interesting to watch Balthazar's reaction when he had no means of escape from it.

Mayhaps he would go mad, or fall into convulsions and die. Horvath chuckled at the thought of Balthazar going into an undigified spasm, twitching like a trampled cockroach, frothing at the mouth like a mad dog...

It mattered little, so long as the Merlinian's death was drawn out, painful, and humiliating. And, from Horvath's casual observation, the outworking of Morgana's plan was a pleasant mix of all three.

Balthazar went rigid as a trapped animal when he felt Horvath's eyes light over his curled spine. Horvath smirked when he saw Balthazar warily peer over his shoulder, helplessly waiting. Horvath touched the brim of his hat in mocking salute. He then pleasantly raised the cane, and slammed it into the earth a foot away from Balthazar's skull.

The jewel adorning the cane glowed wanly as Balthazar shuddered, and clutched his skull, the remnants of the spell rattling through his head like a gong. He shut his eyes from the overwhelming pain, struggled to regain his breath.

"Funny, Balthazar. I thought the most painful aspect of your demise would be seeing your beloved as Morgana's vessel."

Balthazar's eyes cracked open, and blazed up at him.

"Veronica is *not* Morgana's vessel!" The quiet snarl was cut short by another sharp breath.

Horvath only snorted in amusement. "Hmm, perhaps 'vessel' is indeed the wrong word. Maybe a more appropriate word for Veronica's true state would be a casket."

Balthazar winced as he warily glared at Horvath. "What do you mean?" Horvath savored the uncertain fear through the question.

Horvath graced him with a condesending smile, as he knelt down on one knee to Balthazar. Balthazar flinched, but could nothing more.

"It means that your beloved is no more. Yes, Morgana's using Veronica's form at the moment, but in truth..."

Horvath's smirk widened. "Morgana's merely using Veronica's flesh, Balthazar. Veronica is no more alive in that body than any ordinary corpse in a casket."

It was so small, the severed gasp, ending in an exhausted snarl.

"Veronica would never allow it!" The defiance was miserably faltering as Balthazar winced and heaved himself upwards on his shaking elbows.

"Perhaps you misunderstood me, Balthazar. Veronica is no longer *here.*"

Horvath measured the words with care, and was rewarded by Balthazar's anguished quaking. Morgana's spell rose higher, scarring the sky with the spiraling flames.

"The Grimhold doesn't allow its captives to be slain, Horvath! It's a holding cell, not an execution chamber! Where is Veronica?"

Balthazar's desperate question was only met with smug silence, as Horvath merely shrugged.

"Perhaps she exists as only a tortured spectre in Morgana's mind, kept alive for her amusement. Maybe she has become infused as part of the Grimhold itself, another prison bar for an inescapable cell."

Balthazar cringed as if he had been stabbed at the words. Perhaps the invisible plasma blast that Horvath deliberately aimed at his wounded back had been too much.

Horvath relished Balthazar's crumbling slump. Apparently, the sorcerer could be wounded into submission after all.

"I am actually being merciful, Balthazar. I am going to see to it that you live."

Balthazar exhaled sharply at the promise. Horvath's lips quirked. "But don't fret unnecessarily, Balthazar. I'll see to it that you live long enough to suffer. Since you've always had such warm regard for these...humans," Horvath spat, disdainfully, as he raised the cane. " Perhaps you'd care to join them!"

The jewel flamed to life like a brand. Balthazar's eyes flickered with sickened understanding.

"Horvath, no! You can't-"

He never got the chance to finish the sentence. Horvath twirled the cane into a mockingly festive swirl, lowered it to Balthazar's quaking spine, and let it linger over the wound. Balthazar would remember later that the flickering glow seemed to fall to the earth like a star.

It was the last intact thought he remembered.

Balthazar found no words to describe the hell that followed. A shriek, torn from the throat of a hunted animal, finally brought down for the kill. The sensation of his soul being torn from flesh and marrow and warped and rended into depraved spirals. His magic, being leached from his very core, as every cell in his body ruptured, poured forth his essence, vibrated into chaos, and roared a last breath.  
The pain, splintering over his broken spine and trickling down his nerves and drowning his skin in torpor as his senses were flooded, and he writhed in the useless attempt to flee. And then, the very air rending as the chokehold fragmented, Horvath's laughter lingering in the aftermath of stunned senses and fractured images.

Time blurred, agony cresendoed and then faded to a dull throb.

Breath slammed back into his body as he exhaled from the shock of the change.

Balthazar had no idea how long he had laid there, gasping for air like a gutted fish and staring skyward at the cerlian haze. There was only the silence of the tomb, the pensive waiting. The sky was completely devoid of the spirals, the fountain benign and burbling. Morgana, Horvath, both were gone. After the firestorm, the air should have been littered with at least one aura trace from all the magic that had been spewed out. Balthazar was troubled to note that he couldn't even detect his own.

The bull statue gleamed dully in the failing light, gloaming like a mountain and in the same position as it had always been. Not running amok, and trying to impale him with a horn. There should have been shattered glass, fear, some sort of tangible aftermath besides the dull ache of concrete beneath him. The night sky was pristine and unmarred except for the brilliance of a few stars. The sky, that had been set ablaze a few moments before, was remarkably empty.

He shut his eyes, head throbbing as he tried to piece together what exactly had transpired.

He winced in surprise when he heard the thin sliver of shouting at the very edge of his awareness. It took a few more shouts, coming closer with the sound of footsteps for him to realize that whoever it was was screaming his name. He tilted his head towards the voice, trying to decipher who it was, but he was still in too much shock and pain to do much more.

"Balthazar! What the heck happened to you? What on earth are you doing out here at two in the morning? Are you alright?"

Dave. It was Dave. Balthazar allowed the tired smile to quirk in recognition as the steady barrage of panicked questions abruptly ceased.

Dave must have been displeased by Balthazar's lack of response, because he promptly dropped to his knees and bellowed into Balthazar's ear.

"Balthazar!"

Balthazar cracked his eyes open, mouth working into an irritated line. "Yes, Dave. We have established that you know my name. Very good. What?"

Dave tilted his head to the side, bewildered, as he flung a hand out over the sprawled sorcerer. Both men turned towards the sound of another set of footsteps, as Becky worriedly approached Dave.

"Dave, I don't think that he's here. It's almost like he's just vanished off the face of the earth. I don't-"

"Thank you for the concern, Becky. I do appreciate you helping Dave here find me."

She turned sharply at the sound by her feet, and Balthazar offered her a polite smile.

"Balthazar...is there some rational explanation as to why you're laying in the middle of this park at two in the morning?"

Balthazar sighed, and shook his head. "No. Not really."

Dave just sighed, put a tired palm over his forehead, and ignored Becky's questioning look.

"Fine. Whatever. Balthazar...let's just go home,alright?"

And he held out a hand to help Balthazar to his feet. Balthazar gave his hand a pained look as he shook his head.

"There's a slight problem, Dave. I can't walk."

Silence. Dave's eyebrow arched high in the question, as he gave Balthazar's twisted back a very troubled look.

Balthazar said nothing.

"What do you mean you can't walk?"

Balthazar shut his eyes, drew a measured breath, dredged up every ounce of patience he could summon.

"Dave, it's not that difficult to understand. I can't walk. Why else would I be laying here on the ground at two in the morning?"

Dave knelt down to Balthazar's eye level, his eyes shimmering with horrific understanding. Each word fell like a brick between them.

"Balthazar...what happened?"

Dave's gut clenched when he saw Balthazar's eyes widen with fear.

Balthazar drew a shaking breath, as he timidly tried to flex his toes. His shoe twitched at the motion. Dubiously, he flexed his ankle, and then his knees.

Thank God, he could move his legs.

Dave watched as Balthazar stared at his legs as if he had never seen them before. Bewildered, Balthazar slowly climbed to his feet.

He was stunned from the horrific fight, the paralysis, and then the sudden vanishing of hell itself.

The sudden flare of pain over his spine nearly made him topple. He winced sharply.

Balthazar was as wobbly as a newborn foal, but he was still standing. The pain vanished, but his ability to move did not.

Dave noted with alarm that Balthazar looked shaken and sick, as he pivoted around, as if expecting to be attacked.

"Dave, out of curiosity,did you cast a healing spell?" The odd question was deceptively casual, and even more confusing to poor Dave.

Dave slowly shook his head. "I don't know how. You were going to teach me that later, remember? And I thought that you couldn't walk!"

"I couldn't." Balthazar said softly, as he shook his head, disbelieving.

"And now you can? Balthazar, what the *heck* is going on?" Dave regretted the sharp tone when Balthazar flinched, and slowly slid his eyes to his face. The fear was unmistakable.

"I don't know what is going on, Dave. Out of curiosity,did you see Morgana?"

Dave's eyes bulged at the question.

"I guess that means no." Balthazar said quietly.

"I guess that also means that neither one of you have seen Horvath or a rather larger Merlin's Circle in the sky."

Becky shook her head, slowly. Dave craned his neck skyward, worriedly. He heard Balthazar's weary, troubled sigh from behind.

"Never mind, Dave. They're not here."

Dave swallowed hard as he squinted at Balthazar. "Look. Balthazar, I'm still new at this, so I could be wrong, but..."

He trailed off uncertainly as Balthazar's eyes narrowed, warily.

"I can't find any aura traces, and from what you've told me, there's no way that a Morganian could ever do magic without leaving some trace of it behind."

The pain flared as suddenly as a firework before Balthazar could conceal the wince. And then he heard Morgana's brittle chuckle fracturing across his thoughts. He felt his legs unwillingly crumble beneath him, and he would have fallen had Dave not caught him.

Morgana's cruel laughter was needle sharp. He felt her presence burrowing into his thoughts like a parasite, and he recoiled with horror.

And then, that thin laughter faded, leaving only the remnant echo in his thoughts, as he heard Dave scream his name, and Becky's uncertain hand on his shoulder, gently rattling him out of his stupor.

Blinking, he felt awareness being poured back into his flesh. Oblivion wanned, and then fragmented, as he came to.

"Balthazar? Balthazar!"

Balthazar was humiliated to find himself clutching at Dave like a drowning man finding a tether. And he was further distressed to realize that were it not for Dave's grip on his arms, he would have slid to the floor, and possibly not even noticed.  
He did not know if he was out for a few seconds, minutes, or hours. He had no way of knowing.

Dave held on as Balthazar blinked as that emptiness left his eyes. And then Dave watched as Balthazar's face contorted with absolute terror.

Balthazar drew a shaking breath, closed his eyes, massaged his temples with a shaking hand, and presented them with a convincing show of normalcy.

"It's late. You two should be home in bed...but not together."

Becky snorted,and Dave blushed. Balthazar raised a placating palm. "My apologies. Sleep deprivation."

Dave narrowed his eyes, clearly unappeased by the faulty explanation, but unwilling to pursue it further.

"Balthazar, I don't know what's going on, and I'm sorry, but it's a bit too late or early for me to care right now. Why don't you just sleep at my place tonight?"

"No." The refusal was irrevocable and flat.

Dave bit his lip, worriedly. Balthazar tensed at the careful palms at his shoulders.

"Balthazar, you're really starting to scare me. If something happens..." Dave tactfully left the rest of the sentence unspoken, as Balthazar shook off his hands with an hitch of his shoulders, backing away.

"I'm *fine.*" The insistance of the lie sounded even more stupid than he thought possible.

As if in cruel irony, he heard the sliver of Morgana's bright laughter reverberating through him. Sickened, Balthazar didn't even realize that he was nearly doubled over and clutching at his skull.

He slid back into awareness, the echo of that choking cackle lingering unheard by either Becky or Dave.

All Dave could see was Balthazar's slack expression, the huge eyes, staring in transfixed horror at some unseen nightmare. Dave felt Balthazar's shoulders go rigid, his breath quicken, as he paled, and lurched backwards with a startled cry.

He stumbled out of Dave's grip and would have fallen if Becky hadn't reached him first. He shivered at the unfamiliar touch, as one groping hand tapped against his temple. They both heard Balthazar's pained groan, as he crushed his palms to his forehead and shook his head. He flinched sharply, and his eyes shot open when he fell out of his second swoon of the night.

When his awareness returned, Balthazar trembled when he felt the arms around him. Becky awkwardly held him at arm's length, embarrassed and worried as he gently shrugged her hands away, the apology already forming.

Becky gave Balthazar a rather forced smile, and an uncertain look to Dave, before she said,softly, "Look, I know that it's none of my business, but that's the second time you blanked out tonight. You've done so much for me and Dave. Let us help you, okay?"

Balthazar met her beseeching gaze warily, and was warmed to see that they were both genuinely worried about him.

He sighed in surrender, bowed his head. "Fine. But only for tonight."


	3. Overcome

Balthazar groaned himself awake, and suddenly bolted upright at the feel of the unfamiliar blanket. He drew in a shaking breath,  
cursed his shot nerves.

Cracking his tired eyes open, he slumped in relief.

Dave's apartment. The light of the afternoon sun was streaming through the blinds, and for a moment it felt safe. Balthazar winced as he pulled himself up on an elbow. He stared down at the worn couch he was sprawled on, the blanket somebody had kindly flung over him. He had no memory of how he had gotten there, other than vaguely stumbling, flopping down, curling up to nightmares he could not recall.

Last night had been hell. Morgana's laughter still felt like shards against his thoughts, and her voice...

His breath quickened, as a hand strayed to his temple.

It had been torture, to be the witless vessel, to hear her thoughts as his, to have her lay claim to all that he cherished,  
to become intwined as flesh and bone, thought and memory. Evil and good were always in conflict. To have them both infused as one, in the fragile container of a human mind was akin to heaven and hell in a bottle. There was simply no way to keep them there.

Mayhaps if it was all a dream, the horror of Morgana could be as well.

Balthazar shuddered off the horrible thought with considerable effort. Far more than a figment of his imagination should require.

Last night's memories burned like a brand, even if they never happened. Balthazar paused at that. The fire in the sky, Veronica's precious face contorted by Morgana's sneer, Horvath's slow, drawn out execution, and then his own spine snapping like a twig.  
Laying there, waiting to die, Horvath's jewel glowing and then the drowning sensation of his soul being scraped from his bones.

He nearly yelped at the sharp pain that laced fire across his back. Grimacing, his palm slid to his spine, and was shocked to feel no scars, or burnt flesh.

Fearfully, he slid himself upward, and paused. He could feel his legs...that was reassuring. And when he flexed his feet, he could only slump in relief. He could move his legs.

But then, why the pain? Did he pull a muscle in his back? Was it simply a physical injury from sleeping wrong?  
Balthazar nearly snorted at his own stupidity. He had lived in the age where a broken bone could be a death sentence, and medical treatment little more than blood-letting, and prayers. Things like Tylenol, cough drops, were truly the gift of God. Surely he could bear more than just a sore back.

Uneasily, Balthazar set his heels on the floor, and flicked a hand over the blanket, willing the wadded thing to fold itself. The simple spell was as instinctive as breathing, requiring little attention.

So little attention, that Balthazar almost missed the blanket still laying over the edge of the couch. Balthazar stared at the limp cloth, and then hastily raised his hands. Flicked his wrists, willed the blanket to move.

The cloth lay mockingly still. Balthazar stared, swallowed hard against the terrible sense of *knowing.

He shut his eyes, mocked himself as he tried to clear his mind. It was the first, and most basic step . To skip something so elementary and yet crucial was rather idiotic. How many times had he tried to drum that into Dave's skull?

Balthazar forced himself to calm. Gently exhaled the fear with a deep breath, raised a palm, and waited for the blanket to fold itself.

He felt like a gutted animal when he saw that the blanket was still. He dangled his fingers before his wide eyes and winced in horrible understanding when the plasma bolt didn't wasn't even a flicker. No glow, no familiar warmth trickling through his core. Nothing.

His magic was gone.

Balthazar did not delude himself into believing this was some dark dream. He didn't attempt to intellectualize what had happened,  
or dodge the implications. He was simply too shocked and hopeful it was temporary, or simply a human illness.

The last excuse sounded stupid, especially for him. He knew better. Balthazar braced himself, shut his eyes, tried to envision the power swelling like a river undammed-

Again, nothing. His fingers were outstretched, raised high, as if conducting the blanket. But it was worthless in moving anything, save if he got off the couch and folded it. He leaned back, set his aching head back to the warm refuge of the pillow.  
This was wrong. This was so wrong, how-

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of voices at the door. Dave and Becky. Great.

His distress was further complicated by the scrape of key against lock, the sound of a woman's laughter, and the shuffling of feet.

The door flew open, as Dave stumbled in, balancing a stack of pizza boxes, as he shoved the keys back into his jean pocket.

Becky quietly shut the door, still giggling at whatever he said. She gave him a tolerant smile as she scooped up the tottering boxes from his wavering grip and set them on the table.

Balthazar only watched in silence, as Dave abscently waved a hand towards the small kitchen. Paper plates, napkins, and the cleanest glasses rose and set themselves on the table. Becky sighed in irritation as a napkin bopped her in the head. Dave gave her an apologetic shrug.

"Sorry. I'm still working on my aim."

"It's getting better. Just be careful with the breakable stuff, okay?" Becky suggested as she opened the fridge, fished out a bottle of Pepsi and started filling the glasses.

The couch was tucked away in the living room corner, and not easily seen from the kitchen. Balthazar froze when Becky said, carefully,  
"You know, Dave, Balthazar seemed to be pretty out of it last night. You sure he's okay?"

Dave, engrossed with digging through the silverware drawer for the pizza cutter, only comented, distractedly, "He's not very functional without some sleep, Becky. Actually, he's downright cranky if he doesn't get his afternoon nap."

Balthazar bristled at that, but kept quiet. Becky patiently opened the drawer next to Dave and handed him the pizza cutter.

"And is it normal for him to be strolling around the parks at night, saying that he's seen Morgana?"

Dave accepted the pizza cutter and her smirk with a duck of his head. "Normal for Balthazar?"

He looked at her with raised eyebrows. "I don't think that there is such a thing."

Becky gave him a pointed glare. "Dave, he fainted twice. And he was talking about the sky burning."

Balthazar felt his face flush with embarrassment. Two fainting spells and he was babbling to boot?

"Dave, I'm worried about him." Becky said softly, as she gave the living room a troubled glance. Dave gave her a crooked smile.

"Me, too."

Balthazar had been silently seething over the concern, the sad, worried exchange, the whole direction of the conversation. He debated if it were wiser to loudly refute their worry with an argument, or politely tell them to mind their own business. His lips tightened at the thought. As embarrassing as it was to admit, it was still touching and welcome to hear that they worried about him.

So, he was quite honest when he loudly announced his awakening with an almost theatrical, "Thank you for your concern, children,  
but I am fine!"

Becky flinched in surprise and Dave nearly dumped his slice of pizza on the floor. Eying them both warily, Balthazar shoved the blanket away with his hand, and hid the wince as he sat upright. His spine flared and he had to pause a moment before forcing his back to straighten. The bones ground together, but yielded, as Balthazar inhaled sharply. The bones cracking sounded like a gunshot, and not even Balthazar could stop the flinch.

The pain was as excruciating as it was sudden.

Balthazar flopped back onto the couch as his legs went limp and heavy. Useless and slack as water trickling over the side of the couch, they lay twisted in the blanket.

Dave flew to his side, Becky not far behind. They both stared at Balthazar's white, withered face, as he slammed his eyes shut, and panted.

"Balthazar! Balthazar, what's wrong?"

Balthazar fought to keep his voice controlled, and calm.

"I don't know."

Dave narrowed his eyes, as he stared down at Balthazar. Softly, he asked, "What is it that you're not telling me?"

Balthazar's eyes flickered with an unreadable expression, pursing his lips and shaking his head.

"I'm not sure."

Uneasily, he glanced at them, to gauge their reaction. There was some truth to that, however evasive. He honestly wasn't sure.

"I am *not* keeping things from you, Dave. I honestly don't know what's wrong."

Dave rolled his eyes. "Do you think you could try to explain, then?"

Balthazar shrugged, as he shifted on the couch.

"Apparently, my leg have lost their functioning, along with my magic."

One of the most infuriating things about Balthazar was his casual ease in handling absolutely horrific situations. Dave peered at him, scowling uncertainly as Balthazar only waited, patiently for them to digest the news.

Becky broke the silence first. "We found you in the park, laying down. Did you maybe trip and pull something in your back?"

It was certainly a more logical explanation than a bronze statue of a bull coming to life and a news paper rack attacking him.

Balthazar gave her a tolerant, wan smile.

Dave shook his head, troubled. "Let me try something, okay?"

Balthazar eyed him warily and then tried to lurch away when Dave's ring glowed.

Morgana's brittle hiss fired through his brain like a bomb detonating. The pain was nearly blinding as he felt the swell of her depraved power lacing through his core.

Her spell coiled, serpentine over his will, fused with his arm, and spewed from his splayed fingers. The blue glow of the plasma bolt was nearly completed as Balthazar writhed against his own body and tried to stop the thing from firing.

"Dave, look out!"

Balthazar grit his teeth, tried to will the bolt out of existance and could do nothing more than watch as the bolt rocketed from his palms, burned his skin and rocketed towards Becky.

Becky froze as Dave shoved her against his side and errected the shield to deflect the bolt. The thing fizzled like a wet fire cracker and smouldered out of existance.

Becky looked shaking and sick as Dave lowered the shield to look at Balthazar. He was staring at his hands in terror, and revulsion, before he heard Morgana's cackle and felt the dark surge ripple through him again.

"It's happening again! I can't stop it!" He shouted as he lowered his elbows against the couch and flung himself on the floor. He halted the next plasma bolt with his own body wilting with the burning.

Slithering backwards the inches he could, he stared up at them, as he crumbled and choked, "Dave, stop me!"

Dave shook his head in desperate denial, "Balthazar, why are you doing this?"

"It's *not* me doing this! It's Morgana! Stop me before I kill one of you!"

Dave only breathed out the negation, as Balthazar glared and hissed, "You promised you'd do whatever it would take to destroy Morgana."

Balthazar only managed the harsh whisper, "You promised."

Dave was trembling, dark eyes huge and ravaged. "I'm not hurting you, Balthazar! No! This is *not* part of the deal!"

Becky watched, stricken as Balthazar's face contorted into the alien sneer, as the vemonous words burbled out in a voice not his own.

"You have heard your master, Merlinian. Obey him!"


	4. The Departure

"You have heard your master, Merlinian. Obey him!"

The words slithered from his throat, even as he tried and failed to clamp his shaking hand over his jaw. Even Morgana's voice-a velvet purr slathered over his own hoarse rasp, was unbearable. Were Morgana not in control of his body, Balthazar would have fallen to the floor. He could feel the very bones shivering and writhing under his skin. Morgana wouldn't even permit him to tremble.

He felt his arm, nearly floating up from his side, and he watched in helpless horror as his fingers splayed with the glow of the plasma bolt. His eyes were nearly blinded from the flash that errupted from his fist, as the room was nearly swallowed with light.  
He heard Dave's shocked yelp, as he shoved Becky behind him and deflected the blast with a shield. The firepower behind the attack must have been tremendous. Dave wouldn't have shuddered like that from one of Balthazar's practice spells. At most,  
Balthazar would administer a bit of corrective pain-if that.

From behind his shield, Dave was gaping at him in open horror.

"Balthazar, what are you doing?" The question was shrill with terror, as Becky swallowed hard and cringed against Dave.

Inwardly, Balthazar screamed the answer. He wasn't doing this! He would never do this! Morganna only chuckled in perverse amusement.  
Dave had gone pale, sweating, and looking very ill.

Balthazar hated it, but he forced himself to calm, and keep his own thoughts as unobtrusive as possible. The last thing he wanted was for Morganna to be aware of the fact that she may not have conquered him completely. He shivered when he felt her cruel satisfaction at seeing Dave's agonized face and Becky cowering, helplessly.

Balthazar scraped every ounce of his considerable will, shored up his frail defenses. Fighting to keep the futile fear at bay,  
he forced himself to be still, and wait. Morgana, clearly pleased by Dave's faltering confusion, was too preoccupied to notice the flicker of Balthazar's presence.

Mentally, Balthazar grit his teeth, and waited for the chance. Morganna sneered, "Obey your master, Merlinian. Kill him."

Dave shook his head, eyes narrowed and calculating. "Never! Let him go!"

From within the confines of his own flesh, Balthazar waited for Morganna's reaction. True to form, she recoiled, catlike and enraged.  
He felt her magic flooding through his veins like poison as she raised his palms. He felt the fire and heat of the plasma bolt gracing his flesh, and cringed at its deadly strength. Balthazar's own bolts were only hot enough to distract an opponent so he could escape.  
Morganna's were searing enough to kill. Balthazar mentally swallowed back the bile. This was not his own magic. His own magic felt as close as his own flesh. It felt like home.

But Morganna's magic...it was cruel, and invasive and wounding, cleaving to his very soul and errupting like lava, heedless of his will.  
Balthazar exhaled in irritation. He was still stripped of his own magic, and against Morganna, it would have been useless if he had it.  
No, if he were going to save them...never mind himself, he was pretty much damned and screwed at the moment...  
It would have to be with his own body. Morganna's bright laughter was so shrill it hurt his ears.

And now, she had the ball of flame cupped in his palm, smirking. As she readied herself to hurl it, Balthazar braced himself, and poured every bit of what was left of his will into bending his own arm. Lurching, his arm twisted sharp enough to break the bones.  
The plasma bolt's flash blinded him, the searing white heat danced over his body, dribbled like candlewax over his twisted face,  
and came to rest like a fiery mantle over his shaking shoulders.

He was rewarded by Morgana's shrill shriek of rage and agony. He felt her shudder in revulsion as her own spell branded his skin,  
but drove her into fleeing. Balthazar felt her hold break like a twig snapping, as she flooded outward, and left his flesh behind like trash.

Becky screamed when she saw the shadowed form errupt from Balthazar's open mouth. Dave could only gape at the shifting smoke,  
the blood-red hair, the cruel face as Morgana only graced them with a parting sneer, and vanished.

Shivering, Becky found her voice first. "Was that...Morgana?"

Dave gulped. "I think so-Balthazar? Balthazar!"

Balthazar did not answer Dave's panic. Becky stared at him, unnerved as Balthazar only stood rigidly staring at his hands as if he wanted to cut them off at the wrists. Uneasily, Becky glanced from Dave to Balthazar. Dave almost timidly touched Balthazar's sleeve.  
Balthazar's face contorted and he snatched his arm away with a snarl.

"Don't touch me."

Balthazar ignored the wounded look Dave gave him.

"Balthazar, what is wrong with you?" Dave's question was disbelieving, soft and scared.

Balthazar finally raised those brittle eyes from the cage of his templed hands curled against his forehead.

"You know what's wrong with me, Dave." Baltazar's tone was infuriatingly flat as he shut his eyes with a sigh.  
"Apparently, Morganna is using me as her personal playground. Other than that, I'm good."

Silence. There was only silence as Balthazar looked at Dave from the corner of his eye, warily awaiting his reaction.

"Is that why you attacked us? Because Morganna took you over?"

Balthazar winced at that, and nodded. Dave breathed out a long, angry sigh, as Becky ran a soothing hand over his back.

"So, it wasn't your fault, then. Not if that witch took you over."

Balthazar wanly smiled at her kind attempt to exonerate him. "She's a sorcerer, Becky. Like me, only far more powerful."

He groaned as he got to his feet, and brushed the muck from his coat sleeves. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go."

Balthazar caught the flicker of dismay before Dave stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

"Balthazar, you're not going anywhere. And I thought you couldn't walk? What about getting your magic back?And Morganna...  
what's up with her?"

Balthazar quirked an eyebrow at the spew of questions, before he gently but firmly gripped his apprentice by the elbows, and nearly hauled him off of his feet. Dave yelped to find himself neatly deposited out of the way.

"To answer your questions, Dave. Yes, I am going somewhere. I'm your master, so I'm not answerable to you, even though you seem to forget that frequently. As for the not walking, and why none of you were burned to death by that plasma bolt? It's quite simple.  
No sorcerer can use his magic against I deflected Morganna's own plasma bolt with my own body, it broke her spell.  
Yes, Dave, I still have no magic. No, Dave, I don't know how to get it back. I don't know what is 'up" with Morganna, but I think it's safe to assume that it's nothing good. Now that I've answered your questions, excuse me."

Dave swallowed hard, in disbelief. "Balthazar, you can't leave! It's not safe with Morganna on the lose, and..." he spluttered as Balthazar only exhaled calmly and waited for his rant to end, patiently.

"Exactly, Dave. It's not safe. For you, or Becky or anybody else to be around me while I have this problem. You saw what just happened.  
Now, unless you want another fireworks' display, I'll be on my way before there's a repeat."

Balthazar grit his teeth and shook his head at their worry, feeling both irritated and touched at the same time. Sighing loudly, he turned to them both. "You have no idea what Morganna's capable of. I do."

He lingered in the doorway, sorrowed and scared, but determined, as he dofted his hat. "I've already lost somebody I cared for, Dave.  
I'm not doing that again. Good-bye."

And he was gone before Dave or Becky could even speak. 


	5. The Favor

Circles. Balthazar sighed, as he rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. He was thinking himself in circles. He was going in circles. And after a sleepless night of staring at the walls of the hotel room, his thoughts were growing infuriatingly muddled

He was exhausted, but still too tense, too worried, too *afraid* to do anything else but lay on the garishly maroon quilt and stare at the ceiling.

The gray light of morning was slowly trickling through the sepia curtains of his hotel room. His initial thought had been to simply stroll across town, but the very real threat of his legs giving way had forced him to take a cab. He had thought of taking refuge at Dave's lab, but immediately rejected it on the grounds of Dave obviously finding him. Balthazar was also relunctant to see the fireworks Morganna's magic would have with the Tesla coils.

Balthazar scrubbed a hand through his snarled curls as he tried and failed yet again to think of some sort of solution-heck, anything!  
that could be done.

Morganna, he knew, would likely be skulking in the shadows until she recovered enough from the wounds of her own plasma blast.  
And, despite the fire power behind the blast, it would not take her long to reappear. For all Balthazar knew, she might very well just be laying dormant in the confines of his skull right now.

He smirked bitterly at his own fear. Morganna's presence had the subtlety of a bomb going off. He had felt her invasion like a stab wound. There was no way she could either reclaim his body, or work her magic through him without his knowing.

It was a small, but bitter comfort. What was the point in being aware of her if he couldn't even stop her from shooting his own bolts?

He raised his hand, tried and failed yet again to conjure a simple glow of light.

Nothing. No glow, no flicker, nothing but fingers curled outward and groping for something that he no longer had.

His bare palm was as ordinary and human as anybody else's. Shaken and sick, he let his hand fall back to the bed. His magic was still gone.

Great. This couldn't get any better, Balthazar thought bitterly. He sighed, and then shrugged away the anguish with all too familiar ease.

Self-pity would do no good, serve no purpose and only distract him from the task at hand. Finally, as the grey sunlight flared to gold,  
his eyes slid shut and he surrendered to a dreamless sleep.

Not even Becky's sympathy was enough to dull Dave's already overactive anxiety. He glared yet again at the cell phone that he had dialed at least five times. Balthazar hadn't answered, and after a fearful search of the city, it seemed as if the sorcerer had literally disappeared.  
Given Balthazar's questionable mental status, and his erratic behavior last night, Dave's irritation had grown to worry.

Morganna's twisted smirk, the vague, hated outline, still lingered like a ghost from the horror. The door frame was still scorched from the plasma bolt. Dave remembered that shocked, tortured look on Balthazar's face, as his hand came up, and the blast went off. It had to be involuntary.

It just had to be.

Dave cringed in shame. He had let Balthazar actually leave to face this alone, without magic, and injuries to boot. Becky gave him a worried look as he gently pried himself from her arms. Rising grimly, he slid the dragon ring over his finger, wincing at the weight and the warmth. The jewel winked green fire as he cupped a protective hand over the gold band.

"I'll be back soon. Will you stay here and call me in case Balthazar comes back?"

She raised an eyebrow and nodded, uncertain, and masterfully hid the fear. He forced a smile for her benefit and was gone before she could argue.

Balthazar was startled from his broken sleep by the sharp knock on the door, followed by Dave's shrill shout of his name. Groaning, he forced himself upright, as Dave paused to listen for any sound, and then started banging on the door even harder.

Dave stood with his hand raised, and mouth slightly open at the speed that the door was yanked open. Balthazar squinted at him,  
looking exhausted and none too pleased at his unexpected arrival.

Narrowing his eyes, Balthazar curtly asked, "How did you find me?"

Awkwardly, Dave shrugged. "Tracker spell. I finally got it right."

"Apparently you have." Balthazar sighed. "Why are you here, Dave? I thought that I made it clear that being around me is unsafe."

Grimacing as if in pain, Balthazar retreated as he started sliding the door shut. "Leave now, Dave. I don't want another repeat of Morganna's fireworks."

"No. Balthazar, I...I can't just leave you to face this. Not alone."

Balthazar shut his eyes at that. Sighing again, he only nodded, tiredly. "Fine. You can come in, but only on the condition that you'  
leave when I tell you, Dave. If something happens again-"

"It won't!"

Balthazar shot him a withering glare at the interruption. "If something happens, Dave, and I'm not able to control myself, I don't want you to risk yourself or anyone else for that matter, in some futile attempt to save me. Now, if you can abide by that, I'll let you in. There's something I need to discuss with you, anyway."

Dave stared dumbly as Balthazar finally opened the door to allow entrance. Frowning uncertainly, Dave followed, as Balthazar tossed over his shoulder, "Go ahead and sit, Dave...I think it might make this easier."

Alarmed now, Dave relunctantly sat, and waited.

Grimly, Balthazar finally perched himself near the small side table, propped up by his elbows. His frown deepened with his loss of words,  
before he finally, quietly began.

"Before you start hounding me, no...I still don't have my magic. Yes, I can walk, and no, I'm not much closer to finding any answers than I was when you found me in the park last night. But that's not important now."

Balthazar ignored Dave's look of confusion as he rose. "I need you to do something for me, Dave. I need you to use your ring to locate the Grimhold. No, I don't want you going after it. I just need to find out where it is."

Dave looked at him, warily. "You just want me to track it? That's it?"

Balthazar kept his face deceptively placcid. "Yes, Dave, that's it. For now." 


	6. The Warning

"I need you to do something for me, Dave. I need you to use your ring to locate the Grimhold. No, I don't want you going after it. I just need to find out where it is."

Dave looked at him, warily. "You just want me to track it? That's it?"

Balthazar kept his face deceptively placcid. "Yes, Dave, that's it. For now."

Dave raised an eyebrow at the deceptively inocent request. Shrugging, he raised his ring, shut his eyes, cleared his mind. Ran through all the steps, the same ritual a few thousand time practices until it was etched in instinct. The ring flared emerald, the jewel flickering against the darkness of the room. Dave never saw the look of longing that Balthazar forced back before his apprentice could see.

Balthazar sat tensely, watching as Dave grimaced and stiffened.

"Dave?" Balthazar asked worriedly. The ring flamed bright against Dave's knuckles, as he grit his teeth.

"Give me a sec, okay?" Dave's voice was tight with pain as he exhaled sharply. Balthazar shot to his feet when he saw his apprentice pale and start sweating.

"Never mind, Dave. Drop the spell." Balthazar barked out, ,as Dave just shook his head. "I'm fine. I've got this." Dave whispered as he started trembling.

"Dave, drop the spell!' Balthazar's words were laced with panic. The ring suddenly errupted into flame, as Dave clutched his head and screamed.

"Dave!" Balthazar nearly bolted from the couch as Dave slid to his knees. He would have collapsed if Balthazar hadn't swept him up, and carefully lowered him to the floor.

Prying Dave's clenched fingers apart, he finally clawed the ring free and sent it skittering across the floor. Ignoring the ring, Balthazar hoisted Dave onto the bed,and shoved a fearful palm over his nose and mouth to check for breathing. With shaking hands, he touched Dave's neck for a pulse.

Thank God, they were both regular. Balthazar never felt so helpless in his life as he stood over Dave, seeing him so still, and pale.

What the heck was he thinking in asking Dave to take such a risk?

He hadn't known. There was no way he could have known. It did nothing to change the searing guilt, or the helpless anguish as Balthazar eyed the clock. If Dave didn't rouse in the next five minutes, he'd have to call an ambulance.

Balthazar eyed Dave, fearfully. There was no visible wounds, no injuries that he could see. Balthazar had caught him before he had hit anything. He could sense no magic at work. Balthazar inwardly winced. He had lost his own magic. How would he know if Dave's fainting was from something physical or worse?

He couldn't, he realized savagely. He couldn't. Great.

"Dave?" Balthazar tapped Dave's shoulder. "Dave!" Balthazar made no attempt to hide his growing worry as he picked up his apprentice by the shoulders. Gently, he shook Dave.

He was rewarded by the soft groan, and Dave's bewildered, dark stare. Eyes fluttering shut, Dave put a palm to his forehead with another groan. Propping himself up on an elbow, he squinted up at Balthazar, and then his bed.

"Dave. What happened?" Balthazar's voice was tight, and heavy, as he stood over him, clearly demanding an answer.  
"I...I don't know." Dave said softly, as he slowly shifted upright. He nearly fell back when he clapped a hand to his temple from the sudden dizziness.

Balthazar caught him, and glared. "Stay down until you can get up without toppling." Sighing, Balthazar shook his head. "Are you alright?"

Dave nodded, uncertainly. "I think so. What happened?"

"That was my question, Dave." Balthazar said evenly.

Something flickered in Dave's eyes as he shot upright in a panic. "My ring! Where is it?"

All he saw was Balthazar's eyeroll, as he turned away. A few footsteps, and Balthazar reappeared, the emerald ring gracing his palm.

"My apologies if I scared you, Dave. I took it off when you looked like you were going to faint."

"You what?" Dave blurted out as Balthazar hitched a shoulder apologetically, not wanting to anger his apprentice unnecessarily.

"You looked like you were suffering a reaction of sorts from the spell, and I couldn't just-"

"How did you get it off?" Balthazar only stared down at hm, nonplussed.

"Balthazar, how did you get my ring off?" Dave twisted to face him, the urgency in his question all the more strange.

Another condesending sigh, as Balthazar finally answered. "I pulled it off of your finger, Dave. I think that's the conventional way that most rings would be removed."

Balthazar held it out to him, expecting his apprentice to simply pick it up. Dave recoiled from the ring as if it were a drawn weapon.

"Dave. Take the ring." The order was only met by Dave's trembling, and the curt shake of his head.

The white line of frustration between Balthazar's eyebrows grew sharper as he thrust the ring out. "Dave, you need to take the ring. It's the only thing that's going to keep you safe."

Dave swallowed hard, and looked as if he were going to be sick. '"No!" He shook his head more violently as he cupped his forehead. "No way, not after what I saw."

Balthazar narrowed his eyes, but set the ring carefully on the side table.

"I hope you are aware of the fact that I still have no magic, so if something happens, I can't protect you." Balthazar sighed heavily. "Which is also why I left you at your apartment last night. To prevent anything bad from happening." Wryly, he shrugged. "Which, once again, is pointless."

"So." He said it so abruptly that Dave flinched. "Let's start with something simple, shall we?"

Dave squinted. "Are you alright, or not? Do you need a hospital?"

Dave groaned as he sprawled back on the bed. "I think I'm alright. And if I'm not, I don't think that a hospital would help much with this sort of thing."

"So it's not physical." Balthazar said with understanding as Dave nodded. "And without magic, once again, I can't help you."

"Balthazar, I'm alright!" Dave snapped irritably, as he rose on his elbow. Balthazar raised a doubtful eyebrow, but said nothing for a merciful two seconds.

"Why don't you want to put your ring on, then? And what was so mind-boggling about me taking it off?"

Dave shuddered, and shook his head. "No!" Shutting his eyes, he drew out a long, sharp breath. Balthazar stayed silent, waiting for him to gather his thoughts.

"I couldn't get the ring off." Dave said quietly. He held aloft his right hand, dangled the ring finger out so Balthazar could see.

Balthazar inwardly winced when he saw the swollen knuckle. The finger was bent, mishappen, purple and wilted with a bruise. It looked broken.

"Last night, when I tried to take it off, I wound up nearly dislocating the knuckle. But now, the weird thing is that my finger looks much worse but isn't hurting at all"

Balthazar scowled at that. "That doesn't hurt?" He asked doubtfully, as Dave shrugged. "It makes sense. The Prime Merlinian's ring would hardly be of use if it hurt the wearer."

"Balthazar, I couldn't get the ring off of my finger. And it wasn't just like it got stuck, either. It was more like..." Dave grimaced again, "like it somehow grew into my bones. Like it became part of my body or something, but it wasn't like part of me...it was more like a parasite."

Balthazar raised an eyebrow. "We're getting your finger examined. And possibly your head."

"But, it doesn't hurt!" Dave protested, as he flexed the finger and even popped a knuckle. "I know that it looks bad, but it's not painful or anything."

Balthazar only peered at him through the spill of curls. "Did I do that when I pulled it off, then?"

"No." Dave shook his head. "There's no way you could have, Balthazar. That's what I'm saying. I couldn't take it off, not even when I did a cast off spell. And now, you have no magic, but you can take my ring? That makes no sense."

Balthazar sat back, with a raised palm. "Actually, it does. There's a simple explanation for this. You are my apprentice, and I had your ring long before I met you. Only a Merlinian, or a trusted human-" he winced at the words,  
"could take it from you."

Dave did not miss the bitterness in Balthazar's voice. "Then you're still a Merlinian? Even with Morgana-"

"Yes!" Balthazar snarled out as he abruptly rose. "I've *always* been a Merlinian, even with Morgana. Especially with Morgana."

He exhaled bitterly, and Dave inwardly flinched when he saw how old and tired Balthazar looked.

"You mean that you can hold her back, then?" Dave looked up at Balthazar uncertainly. Balthazar glared at the wall over Dave's shoulder for a long, brittle moment.

Finally, softly, he answered, "No. No, I can't."

His lip thinned into a grim line as he scrubbed a tired hand through his curls. "Never mind about that now. If something happens, you know to run, and you've still got your magic. That's better than hopeless."

"Now-" Balthazar said briskly, "Tell me what you saw."

Dave's face contorted, as he shut his eyes. Finally, he raised that tortured gaze to meet Balthazar's and finally choked out, "I saw you die."


End file.
